


We Better Make A Start

by Mychelle_Wilmot



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e07 Digestivo, F/F, Fluff, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of past abuse, Post-Episode: s03e07 Digestivo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6670855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mychelle_Wilmot/pseuds/Mychelle_Wilmot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I was just thinking. We’ve been sleeping together for months. You know more about me than I ever bothered to tell anyone, we are now accomplices in a murder… and yet I’ve never been in your house before."</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Better Make A Start

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set during/right after Digestivo. Just a small oneshot, unbeta’d.

***

“So this is it, then? Nothing else happened?”

When she heard the distrustful words coming out of Jack’s mouth, Alana huffed and made a large gesture with her hands.

“Look around you, Jack. This mess is not enough for you?”

Jack pursed his lips and quickly scanned the room with his eyes, briefly looking at the damage, at his men all around the mansion trying to determine how many corpses were still laying around.

“There’s something missing here, Doctor Bloom. Why would Hannibal kill everyone in this house but spare you and Miss Verger?”

Alana sighed.

“I didn't exactly had the opportunity to sit down with Hannibal for a pleasant conversation, Jack. I don’t know. His time was running short; he probably wanted to run away as soon as he could. I don’t know why he didn't kill us, but I won’t complain.”

Jack shook his head.

“You should be worried about it. You know very well that Hannibal doesn't do charity for no one.”

Alana suppressed the urge to smile bitterly at the statement; she was more than aware of that.

“Do you at least know why he was so adamant in killing Verger?”

“Mason never discussed the details with me, but he told me that Hannibal was the one responsible for his disfigurement. That was why he was so determined to find Hannibal, he wanted revenge on him.”

“And you didn't think you should have told me that at some point, Alana?” Jack gritted out, not even trying to hide the frustration behind his tone.

“Honestly Jack, what could you have done?” Alana was also frustrated and tired after answering so many questions “Mason would have denied if you questioned him, and would have fired me for breaking our patient/doctor confidentiality. My plan was to wait until he caught Hannibal and then warn you.”

Jack looked around once again, in the direction where two forensic men were carrying a body covered in a sheet.

“Mason doubted my loyalty in the end, so it was impossible to warn you,” she sighed “I guess my plan worked just as well as yours.”

Jack shook his head, clearly not in the mood to discuss whatever happened on Europe.

“You told me Will was here, too. The forensic team didn't found him, dead or alive.”

“Hannibal must have taken him. Will always seem to be involved when Hannibal is the subject, willing or not.”

Jack nodded, his expression severe and Alana bit her lip, a gesture that Jack would probably mistaken as worry of Will’s uncertain whereabouts, when in truth was the certainty of what happened to Will that worried Alana.

After Hannibal had slaughtered just about everyone in the mansion and helped them extract Mason’s sperm, he immediately went to Will, who was laying immobile and vulnerable in a makeshift operation. He had informed her and Margot that Will was merely paralyzed, not anaesthetized, and Alana could feel anger burning hot in her guts with the implication - as if it wasn’t enough what Mason had just done with Margot, as if it wasn’t enough that he was going to remove Will’s face, he was also going to offer him a very, very painful death.

Hannibal didn’t offer many explanations after that; he only reassured Alana that he was going to keep his promise to save Will, and then Hannibal scooped Will up in his arms, refusing Margot’s offer of a car or a horse.

Alana had silently watched them a few moments; the grotesque image of Hannibal carrying Will in his arms made her think of morbid fairy tales and monster movies, of Frankenstein carrying his bride in the stillness of the night. She watched them for long moments, until she went inside again, back to Margot, praying that Hannibal would keep his promise.

“The last time I saw Hannibal and Will together, Hannibal was trying to cut off Will’s head to eat his brain,” Jack said, dead serious “So you can understand my urgency to find them - any detail you can give me right now is vital.”

Alana swallowed, remembering the curative in Will’s forehead, the hammer in Hannibal’s bloody hands.

“If Hannibal was going to kill Will, he wouldn't kill him like he killed these men here, without any grotesque presentation, without his murder tableaus. Hannibal wouldn’t be so careless with him; Will is different, he would need more time, a better location. You should go to Will’s house in Wolf Trap.”

Jack stared at Alana, his expression hard.

“Any particular reason you think so, Doctor Bloom?”

“Just…” Alana shook her head “Just go, Jack. It’s the best lead I can give you.”

Jack kept staring at her, clearly not satisfied with that answer. Alana sustained the weight of his gaze; she wouldn't bow down, and she wouldn't change her mind.

“Alright,” Jack relented first “I won’t push it right now because my priority is going after Hannibal before he slips away again. But you should know that you’ll need to give me more than this. I’ll need more details about what exactly went down here.”

“I wouldn't expect anything different from you.”

Jack nodded, stiffly, and with no more words he walked away from her, bellowing orders about assembling a team to go after Hannibal.

Alana took a deep breath, relieved that Jack was finally gone. Jack was her friend, always was, a long time before all this mess happened, and she didn't like to tell half truths to his face like she just did - it seemed wrong.

However, she didn't see any other way; it was necessary to protect herself, to protect Margot.

_And speaking about Margot…_

Margot was sitting down in a chair, not very far from Alana, a paramedic hovering over her; she had a shock blanket over her shoulders and a vacant look on her face.

Alana came closer, but Margot still didn't look at her. She didn't look at her since the police arrived, and Alana knew it was no pretence, which worried her. Alana didn't think it would be good to Margot to get so deep inside her head right now - they needed to get away from the mansion.

“Officer,” Alana said to one of the policemen who were in the room “I would like to know if we’ll still be needed here or if we are free to go. It’s been a very long night.”

The officer gave Alana a polite smile.

“Crawford said you two were free to go for now, but that you’ll both have to make an official statement today. But you are free to go for a few hours.”

Alana smiled in genuine gratitude.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

The officer nodded, and Alana went to Margot’s side.

“Margot,” She gently squeezed her shoulder “We are free to go.”

Margot took some moments to look at her, and even so, Alana knew her mind wasn't completely present.

“Go where?”

“Any place that isn’t here. Maybe…” Alana hesitated for only a moment “My house, if you would like.”

When she heard the suggestion, Margot seemed to pay more attention to her - she never stepped into Alana’s house, and the casual invitation seemed to hold more importance than Alana had first thought.

“Yes,” Margot said eventually “We can go to your house. I don’t want to be here anymore, not right now.”

Alana smiled weakly, happy to finally get away from Muskrat Farm.

***

“Do you realize that I’ve never been in your house before?”

Alana’s hand stopped in the air for a few seconds as she was filling the second glass of wine, but she quickly recovered.

“I realized it the second after I invited you, actually,” she said, putting the bottle away and bringing the glass of wine to Margot, who was sitting on her couch.

Margot accepted the glass with a grateful nod; she had been the one to ask for alcohol, and Alana didn't have it the heart to deny anything to Margot in that moment.

“I wanted to invite you before,” Alana said, sitting beside her “I thought about it a hundred times. But every time I did, I also thought it would be risky. That Mason would discover where you was and would immediately notice intimacy between us.”

Margot held the glass in her hand and smiled weakly.

“You’re right. It was for the best. I would probably want to come, and that would have been reckless. It could have ruined everything for us if he had discovered that we were together earlier.”

Alana sighed, and drank from her own glass.

“Where are the dogs?” Margot asked after a few minutes spent in silence.

“When things started to get ugly, I predicted that I wouldn't be home for a few days, so I called my neighbour and asked her to take in Applesauce and Will’s dogs for a couple of days.”

Margot raised her eyebrows.

“She must be an extremely nice person to look after so many dogs.”

“I know, eight dogs is a bit too much, but she loves animals and she had took them in before.”

Alana remembered her neighbour then - Emily, an older, extroverted woman with blonde hair and kind eyes; she always tried to engage Alana in conversation when she could. They didn't know each other very well, but she was a very good person. She went as far as to help Alana a few times when she was still in a wheelchair, and she never complained when Alana showed up at her door begging her to take the dogs in for a few days.

After working with Jack and knowing what exactly what people are capable of, Alana could hardly believe that a person like Emily could exist, but she always felt happy and warm when she thought about the woman, thinking that innocence and genuine goodness could coexist in the world where violence and death were so predominant.

“That’s a shame,” Margot said, her lips pressed against the glass “I would have liked to meet Applesauce.”

“You will meet her. I’m going to take her and the others back tomorrow, maybe I’ll send the pack back to Will…” she swallowed “That is, if Hannibal kept his promise.”

“You think he won’t?”

Alana shook her head.

“I think he will, but… I really would rather not to talk about Hannibal right now.”

Margot nodded, and let the subject drop.

For several minutes they remained in comfortable silence, slowly drinking the wine from their respective glasses and trying to consider everything that had happened.

Alana thought about the small ice box hidden in her car, who held inside the small flask of Mason’s sperm. It was one of the first things she did after Mason was dead; she knew that once the police arrived, they wouldn't have the opportunity to hide the semen that would define Margot’s patrimony and her future.

Their future.

When Margot first spoke about her plan, Alana felt somewhat troubled about the notion of being mother for a child whose father was one of the most despicable human beings that Alana ever had the displeasure of knowing, but her uneasiness slowly melted as she convinced herself that, despite Mason’s DNA, this child would not be Mason’s at all.

This child would be all hers, and Margot’s.

Alana still had trouble believing the course that her life had taken after she left the hospital; she could hardly believe the things she had done in so little time, the strength of the relationship that she started with Margot, a relationship deep enough to make her accept, even yearn for the opportunity of being a mother for Margot’s son.

She could hardly believe, but she wouldn't change it for the world. While the circumstances of their relationship were a mess, Alana never felt with anyone the way she felt with Margot. The uniqueness of their relationship was breathtaking, and Alana wouldn't give this up for anyone or anything.

In that moment, Alana’s thoughts were interrupted by Margot’s laughter. Alana looked at her, curious to what brought up her mirth.

“I was just thinking,” Margot shook her head “We’ve been sleeping together for months. You know more about me than I ever bothered to tell anyone, we are now accomplices in a murder… and yet I’ve never been in your house before. I didn’t even meet your dog!”

Alana frowned for a few seconds because Margot was right, and this wasn't a good thing, this was one of the many things that what was seriously wrong in their lives. But even if this isn't a laughing matter, Alana soon saw herself laughing too at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“It’s a little weird when you put it in that way,” Alana said, smiling.

“Not only weird, is ridiculous,” Margot said, not laughing anymore but still smiling “It’s outrageous. It’s absurd. It’s… fucked up.”

In the span of a second, Margot’s smile disappeared off her face.

“Fucked up like everything else in my life, thanks to Mason.”

With the mention of Mason’s name, Alana’s face also closed off.

“It’s over now. He can’t hurt you anymore. Never again.”

Margot sighed, avoiding eye contact.

“It’ll never be really over. I’ll always carry with me the marks of what he did to me. Reminders on my mind… reminders on my body. He may be gone, but he made sure that I couldn't look at a mirror without seeing what he did to me.”

Alana hated seeing Margot like this. She hated to see the haunted look in her eyes, the fear that she carried so long with her that was like a second skin that she wore without even noticing. She hated to see Margot looking so hopeless, especially after what they had accomplished.

Margot started to pace the room, and Alana stood up too, putting her glass on the couch and maintaining some distance from Margot.

“You’re more than the sum of your scars. You are more than the pain that Mason inflicted on you, Margot, so much more.”

Margot stopped pacing, her eyes shining and her lips curving into a smile.

“It’s hard to think like this when you spent a life counting scars. I still can’t believe he is gone, truly gone. That Mason will never breath again. That he will never open his mouth to hurt me again.”

A tear slipped down Margot’s face, contrasting with the smile.

“You realize that this was my biggest dream since I was a teenager, Alana?” her voice cracked, even as she chuckled “Being free from my brother. I used to pray for it every night, when I still held religious belief. But you know what?”

Alana shook her head; she didn't want to speak and discourage Margot’s talkative mood.

“There was no vengeful god who helped me, no wrathful angel. Just my former psychiatrist and his murderous skills. And myself. I helped myself. And you,” She looked at Alana with feverish intensity “You did it, too. We did it. I’m free,” Margot laughed “I never knew freedom. Not like this, not ever. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, or to feel.”

Margot looked at her then, and Alana felt her heart skip a beat. Margot looked positively maniac, tears rolling down her face, her laughter almost hysterical. In that moment, she seemed almost lunatic, dangerous, lethal.

She was the most breathtaking vision Alana ever had the pleasure of witness.

Alana questioned her own sanity in moments like this; she would wonder what had happened in her life, why she took the decisions she did. She had blood in her hands, now; not only Mason’s, but every single person who stayed in Hannibal’s way to freedom, all the blood who was still staining the floors of the Verger mansion. Alana would stop and think, and wonder.

But one look at Margot, and every doubt she ever had would be dissipated.

Alana couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty; she had seen with Hannibal that the lawful, the bureaucratic way wasn’t always the right path. Not when it could be so inefficient, not when money could get in the way and save a man like Mason. She learned in the hard way that sometimes you had to get your hands dirty to get your own dose of justice, and that was how she saw this situation. Mason’s blood in her hands didn’t bother her, neither his lackey’s, the same ones who put Margot’s baby inside of a pig.

She thought again that in so little time so much had changed. Alana was partially scared with the course of the events of her life, but when she looked at Margot, everything else disappeared.

_I want to marry his woman. I want to be her wife. I want to spend the rest of my life showing her how beautiful, how whole she is._

“Freedom can be an addictive feeling, but I would advise you to tread carefully,” Alana started, but Margot didn't let her finish.

“I know everything about treading carefully, Alana. My whole life was about treading carefully around Mason, speaking low, trying to stay away. And now I don’t have to do this anymore.”

In slow steps, Margot walked in her direction.

“I’m not naive. I’m anything but naive. I know this is not the end, that there’ll be so much more to come; I don’t expect that the rest of my problems will go away. But right now? I never felt better. Never felt more alive,” Margot laughed again, even as her voice failed with the tears “Do you want to live with me?”

With that, Margot offered her hand, as if asking her to dance.

Alana thought about the taste of her own blood from when Abigail threw her off Hannibal’s window; she thought about Hannibal promising that he would kill her, of Jack’s suspicion when he was interrogating her, about the exasperation in Will’s face when he was trapped on the mansion. She thought about the ice box in her car, the promise of a life that would grow inside of her, about how she had put herself into a hole and that there was a storm just waiting for them outside of the safety of her house.

And then she looked at Margot.

“I want to live. I choose to live. With you,” Alana said, taking the offered hand.

When Margot’s lips descended on hers, Alana didn't thought at all; she just memorized the feeling of her mouth so close, wanting to keep the aliveness of the moment always preserved on her memories.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song 'Everywhere', by Fleetwood Mac.
> 
> I'm not very happy with this story, but I need to focus on college stuff and this little story wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it... so here it is.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and kudos, comments or any kind of feedback are very welcome and encouraged and make the author very happy and motivated!


End file.
